


Stones to Stars

by trainmaker



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Dancing, Goat Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Slow Burn, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainmaker/pseuds/trainmaker
Summary: Ranboo's home has always been the open road, ever since he was a child. When he returns to a place where the people all seem to know him, he struggles to fulfill a forgotten promise and reunite with two lost friends.Tubbo has waited on Ranboo since they were kids. He returns as a complete stranger and Tubbo reconciles heartbreak with longing.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 65
Kudos: 259





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

> title is from GAI  
> "i threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell"
> 
> this fic will begin with the trio at age 11, then age 15 and finally present day/future

Tommy and Tubbo were the strangest friends Ranboo had ever had. Of course, they were the only ones he'd ever had (to his knowledge) but that didn't change things much. At eleven, he figured he had quite a good handle on people.

When Ranboo's family had decided to make camp in the taiga village, he had expected it to be a week or two. He hadn't expected the moon to have waxed and waned in its entirety twice over. It was a startling change from the desert they had just come from. The muted purple kaftan he'd been wearing was thin and useless against the sometimes violent cold of the forest and his sandals were quickly replaced with clunky leather boots. Furs and blankets were traded in exchange for sunny desert gold, and even his wise-eyed mother didn't complain at the steep prices. They were travelling people, the merchant sort, which meant that though they had set foot in nearly every biome, they were accustomed to none.

He supposed he preferred the cold to the dripping heat he had just come from though. At least here, you could warm in front of a fire. In the desert, he and his family had relegated themselves to a nocturnal schedule to avoid the heat. He did miss the moon somewhat, but there was more company in the day. After two weeks of keeping to himself and waiting for the camp to be picked up again, he realized he'd better make some friends.

"Wotcher, Ranboo?" Tommy, the taller, fairer one called out. His accent was sharp and Ranboo liked listening to him talk. He was used to new dialects and the harsh syllables reminded him of some of the languages spoken in the far tundra.

"Chores. Just some chores." He was mending a chainmail vest, slim fingers suited to the iron rings and tools.

"S'that yours?" Tubbo's accent was similar but more rounded. He was short but cast a long shadow where he stood behind Ranboo. 

"No." Ranboo righted another twisted ring. "Move over, you're blocking my light."

"Sorry." Tubbo came to sit next to him on the log. The fire was dying, ignored in favour of the surprisingly warm winter sun.

"As if Ranboo would have armour." Tommy cackled. "He's about as violent as a rabbit."

Ranboo felt annoyance prickle under his tunic. "I'm tough, I could have armour."

"You don't though, do you?" Tommy smirked and settled on the other side of him. His fingers fumbled under their gaze and he felt his face heat.

"I'm too young," Ranboo grumbled. "And besides, what's there to fight?"

"My brothers have said they'll teach me some. Axes and shields and all that." Tommy said proudly, puffing up like a bird. Ranboo rolled his eyes, wondering if Tommy meant to impress him or Tubbo. Tubbo was poking the campfire with a long branch, clearly uninterested.

"Your brothers sure do come and go a lot. Do they trade like Ranboo's lot?" Tubbo asked, turning over a log and watching it spark.

"No. One of 'ems a merc. You know what that is right? Blade for hire." Tommy's eyes gleamed with firelight. "Other one's a bard, so he makes his rounds doing the singing thing."

Ranboo liked when Tommy's brother performed. He'd seen all sorts of music in his small time on earth, but the meandering story of Wilbur's songs and the jaunty guitar was his favourite so far. "That's so cool."

"It's alright," Tommy said smugly.

"I don't think I'd much like travelling." Tubbo hummed, holding his smoking stick aloft. "I'd miss you lot too much."

"Well don't go getting attached. Ranboo's not sticking around forever."

Ranboo frowned at that but he couldn't deny it. "It's not like it's my choice." He slipped another ring into the row to patch the mail. "I don't get to pick when we come and go. We just do."

"I'd like you to stay," Tubbo said softly and trailed smoke through the air.

\--

Tubbo burst into his tent with a ferocious grin and leapt onto his sleeping roll. Tommy followed shortly, plodding in and having the decency to take his boots off. Tubbo jostled him until he sat and then, with an air of satisfaction, dropped a basket full to the brim with rose hips. The small, shiny berries were treats he'd only ever had by the handful. Presented with so many, all he could do was stare.

"We spent all morning finding them while you sat in bed. But lucky for you, we're excellent friends so we decided to share." Tubbo explained quickly, clearly out of breath.

Tommy sat down at the end of the bedroll. "Tubbo's the good friend. I wanted them all for ourselves. You've just been lazing about." There was a fond edge to his words though and Ranboo suspected it wasn't the entire truth.

He'd been in bed all morning, that was true. The night before, he'd woken halfway lost in the forest, up to his knees in snow and underbrush. It wasn't abnormal, his mother had told him that it would start about now, but it had been terrifying. Snow at least made the forest brighter. He could see the white outline of snow-covered pines above, cutting through the star-speckled sky. That was what kept him from spending a chilly night in the snow. He used them to windingly make his way south until the torchlight spilt across the snow and he could find his way on his own. Shaken and cold to his bones, he'd stayed awake the rest of the night warming by the fire, too scared to sleep again and too embarrassed to wake his mother.

The tiredness still clawed at him, but after popping a rose hip into his mouth he felt better. The sour juice exploded in his mouth and he scrunched his nose, enjoying it. "Thank you." He said, watching as Tubbo dropped a whole handful into his mouth. Tommy tossed them into the air and caught each one in his mouth. He was so cool, Ranboo thought with annoyance. Maybe if he had older brothers he'd know half the tricks Tommy did. But all he had was one very strange mother and a load of assorted relatives. 

"Are you all done with dozing, then?" Tommy asked after the three of them had eaten their way through half the basket. "Tubbo's been talking my ear off all morning about showing you the lake."

Tubbo's heart-shaped face reddened a little but he didn't shy away. "It's just that it's frozen over nicely. We could skate."

"I've never skated before."

"Well, I won't laugh when you fall." Tubbo grinned cheekily and Ranboo threw a rose hip at him. 

"Goat-breath!" Ranboo teased.

"Oi, it's goat  _ ears _ , not goat-breath." Tommy pinched one of Tubbo's soft brown ears and then stood. "Now let's go before Ranboo gets called for chores or something stupid."

\--

The families in the village seemed to function as one collective unit, Ranboo found. It was a lot like his family, where he might just as well be tucked in by his uncle or cousin than his mother, but there was no blood relation at all. Of course, Tommy had his brothers, but he'd never heard once about Tubbo's family. He came and went from cabin to cabin without much fuss, even spending the night in Ranboo's own tent once or twice. Still, he was fed and clothed and didn't seem to care. Or at least he had never said so.

That was until he did. The two of them were huddled under thick furs, watching the smoke disappear out the hole in the top of Ranboo's tent. His second-cousin had just come to tell them to quiet down for sleep and give them both a perfunctory kiss on the head. 

"You don't have a dad, do you?" Tubbo said.

Ranboo couldn't find it in himself to be defensive or even surprised. "No. You don't either, though."

"Well, there's got to be someone. Techno said that to me once. We don't come from nowhere so there's got to be someone."

"Does it matter? I might have one too but I don't remember." Ranboo glanced at Tubbo. His blue eyes were reflecting golden firelight. He'd never really seen eyes like his, so wide and blue. It reminded him of the frozen lake.

"I wish I remembered." Tubbo's voice was soft and wistful in a way he'd only ever heard from people twice their age. He reached out to pat Tubbo's shoulder, unsure what to do. "I'd hate to be forgotten." He continued

"You've got Tommy, though, and all his family." Ranboo knew that the three brothers watched over him, sometimes joined by a fourth man. It was nearly as many people as Ranboo had, and he'd never felt uncared for. 

"But those are Tommy's. Wilbur, Techno, they're his. And Phil's only around for Techno really, I think." His tone had turned sour now, jealous. "Even you have your mum, that's your person."

"She doesn't belong to me." Ranboo puzzled. It wasn't as though she had a claim on him more than just being his mother. His family were very clear about that, they were all their own. His older relatives came and went and nobody paid mind to the leaving. And when it was his time, he'd probably go too. 

"I'll never have someone just for me. I know I should be happy," Tubbo snuffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "But it makes me feel rotten sometimes." He leaned heavily onto Ranboo as he often did. It was strange to him, his family weren't much for touching. Here in this cold place, it seemed more of a necessity than anything though, everyone was always touching.

"Well, you've got me."  _ For now _ , he didn't say. "Though I guess I'm Tommy's friend too, so you do have to share."

"Hmph. Fine." Tubbo mumbled. They didn't say much after that, just watched the fire die. 

\--

They did leave, in the end. Tommy tried to look tough but the hug he gave Ranboo was startlingly tight. Tubbo just cried. Ranboo wasn't much good with crying people, but he pet his hair like his mother used to do for him and that seemed to calm his friend down. 

"Come back, won't you?" Tubbo sniffled.

"Maybe." Ranboo knew that if they did make their way around there again, it wouldn't be anytime soon. 

"Promise." Tubbo took his hand. Ranboo stared at their hands then over at Tommy, who didn't seem much bothered. He wished sometimes he could be as aloof as Tommy, even if it was all an act. 

"Yeah, okay. I promise." He gave Tubbo's hand a squeeze and then his mother was pulling him up onto her horse. She dug her heels into its side and he clutched tightly onto the ornate purple saddle, watching mournfully as his first friends shrank from view. 

Ahead, his mother's long black hair whipped in the wind, tracing the wide-open sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope that was good for you all :)  
> this is going to be chaptered, around 3 parts I think, though you know thats what I said about jet-lag and it ended up much longer.  
> this is going to be mostly fluff, maybe a little hurt/comfort at some parts. 
> 
> if you have any questions or parts you really liked, leave them in comments (guests are totally fine)
> 
> AND! if you want to keep track of this story/my others, sub to me on my profile


	2. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ranboo returns to see tommy and tubbo. ranboo tries to figure out how to navigate their relationships again, with some success.

Ranboo didn't come back until he was fifteen. The forest was a fond memory, something he thought about when his mind wandered. Their journeys spanned weeks now that he was older, stops less frequent. When they rode, a long chain of tiny silhouettes against the endless landscape, he remembered his friends. He remembered what it was to be still, to wake up and not wonder where you were in the world. He wondered if he missed them or if he was just restless. When he had left those years ago, he'd childishly asked his mother when they would return. She laughed, that beautiful, crow-caw sound he'd inherited, and wrapped his scarf tighter under his nose. There were more adventures ahead of him, more journeys and more friends.

And there were. Seasons passed and he grew tall and reedy, looking down at all but the tallest people he met. When he looked into his mother's looking glass, over her shoulder as she braided her inky hair, he saw the way his face changed. It was longer and there was something about his eyes that made him uncomfortable. He'd changed in more than body too; he'd grown into his habits, as his mother described it. He harnessed his ability to pick up raw metals and materials, a gift from his mother's side. The sleep-walking escaped him though. He often woke up miles from their party, and each time he found his navigation improved.

There was another issue still that Ranboo couldn't place. It could be heritage or lifestyle or a willingness to forget, he reasoned, but his memory was absolutely shot. He was constantly misplacing his things, which drove his mother mad, and more than that, he had a very hard time holding onto the past. He reasoned that his travelling was to blame, that his mind was too full-up with strangers faces and new places that it simply expunged the unnecessary, but none of his relatives seemed to have the same problem. It made his memories of Tubbo and Tommy all the more precious, as he risked losing them without meaning to.

When his convoy passed through the desert that Summer, blazing hot and familiar, Ranboo felt something tickle the back of his mind. He tried to place it as they took shelter in an oasis, tried to pick it apart as he drew gold ore from a deep desert mine, and finally came to a solid conclusion when his family set back on the road. The desert turned to plains, rickety trees and sparse bushes, and then finally the proud pine he had imagined so many times. His horse, Allium, tossed her head when he stilled.

He confirmed the thought with his mother and she only smiled knowingly. He goaded his horse into a gallop and tore past the rest of them along a path he knew from his dreams. It was shorter than he remembered, but then, he had his own horse now and he was bigger he supposed. The town was the same though. Thatched roofs, a cobbled square and a grove not far off where his family had once stayed. He slowed as he entered, sliding off his mare and gathering her lead in his hand.

In Summer, the little town was more lively than he'd ever known it to be. Boughs of flowered branches hung from window-boxes and merchant stalls filled out the edges of the square. People milled about, no longer forced to gather around fire-pits and wood-stoves. Children darted around and one stopped to stare at him where he stood. He looked down at the little boy whose ginger hair spilled out of his cap. He supposed he must look rather outlandish. His thin cloak was a patchwork of fabric, striped and paisley and all sorts, embroidered with little stars. It kept the sun off in the hot and in the cold he lined it with furs. "Hello." He smiled.

"Hullo." The boy said back, then rushed off into a house nearby. The door wobbled on its hinges for a moment before a familiar, albeit older, face peered out. Two taller figures followed and the three squinted at him in unison. They were wildly different looking, but Ranboo recognized them immediately as brothers. Brothers he knew. Tommy broke first, a grin breaking his expression.

"Well, I'll be!" Tommy howled and barrelled towards him. Ranboo's chest felt tight with emotion and he tightened his grip on Allium's reins.

"Hi, Tommy." He said. Tommy gripped his arm something fierce and Ranboo felt his eyes run over every new part of him. His two older brothers stepped up behind him, looking much the same as they had when he was eleven. Wilbur's face was a little more drawn, and when he looked down, the ginger-haired boy clung to his arm. Techno had a fat scar across the bridge of his nose and even more jewellery than Ranboo had remembered him with. He tried not to analyze the quality, but he knew gold well. A piece on his ring finger drew his eye before it was moved swiftly out of sight. 

"And I thought Tommy was tall," Wilbur whistled and reached to ruffle his hair. "Little Ranboo's tall as pine."

Ranboo warmed under all the attention and shrugged. "It's the worst. None of my pants fit properly anymore." It was true, his ankles caught all the Summer's breeze.

"Ah well, not all of us are so lucky." Tommy's grin turned sly and he cast a glance around the square. "Tubbo's about the same as when you last saw him. Reckon he'll be over-the-moon when he hears you're back."

Ranboo tried not to look too eager at the mention of their old friend. He liked Tommy well-enough, but it was Tubbo he'd worried about in his time away. "Where is he?"

"He'll be in the meadow. Something of a beast-master, our Tubbo." Tommy looked at Wilbur. "Could I go with? I know I've got chores but it's sort of a special occasion."

"Sure, fine. Can you take Fundy with you?" 

"If I have to," Tommy complained, but when he hoisted Fundy up onto his shoulders, he didn't look too annoyed. The little boy grabbed two fistfuls of blond hair like the reins of a horse and Ranboo chuckled. Techno and Wilbur retreated with a wave and mentioned stopping by the campsite after supper. He watched them go fondly. He had expected to feel left out, to see his time away represented here, but it remained a warm picture of his memory for the most part. Tommy was still very much the little brother he had been when they were kids, attention-seeking and bothersome and wonderful. His family was as elusive as ever. He wondered how much different Tubbo would be.

They passed Ranboo's family on their way up to the hillside. They were unpacking their huge saddle-bags and unloading their handful of mules. Colourful tents would be erected by the time they returned and Ranboo's heart twisted at the idea of the familiar sight.

\--

Tommy let Fundy down as they crested the hill. Before them, the meadow opened up, wide and pale green and humming with life. Sheep parted the waving grass, munching happily on wildflowers and sweet cud. Fundy tore ahead of them and Tommy grunted. "He'll come back covered in burrs. Idiot."

Ranboo laughed and unclipped his cloak. He was eager to feel the northern sun on his bare arms. Even in Summer, it was a cold light, bright and harsh. He closed his eyes for a moment until a voice broke his concentration. "I knew you'd come back!" Tubbo's accent was still warm and round. Ranboo's eyes shot open and he watched as a familiar head of brown hair tumbled towards him. He stumbled until he stood before him, beaming and bright and lovely. Tommy excused himself to chase after Fundy, curses spilling from his mouth.

"Hi," Ranboo said breathlessly. Tommy had been right; Tubbo was only a few inches taller than he had been last time. His face, though, had changed. His blue eyes were as icy as ever, but he'd come into his face, no longer round and boyish. It was still heart-shaped, but he had cheekbones and his eyes spoke of years Ranboo had missed. 

"You are such a plonker." Tubbo laughed. "You're gone for four years and you dare to be taller than me?"

"It's not that hard to be taller than you," Ranboo replied warmly.

"Oi!"

There was a delighted shriek and Ranboo watched as Tommy scooped Fundy up into his arms. Their friend loped over, dangling the boy overhead as he giggled. "You think Wilbur'd notice if I tossed him off the mountain?"

"Probably." Ranboo grinned as Fundy squirmed. "I'd cover for you though. Could be an accident."

"Please, don't!" Fundy pleaded, trying to wriggle out of Tommy's grasp. "Tubbo don't let him toss me!"

"Hmmm..." Tubbo pretended to weigh his options and Ranboo laughed. "Well, alright. It's awful weather for a funeral anyway."

"Too true, Tubbo my man." Tommy lowered Fundy to the ground and fixed him with a surprisingly stern look. "Don't get lost, stay by the sheep." 

"Yes, captain!" Fundy saluted and then skipped off into the herd.

He liked the way Tubbo surveyed the field, the careful, calculating look in his eyes. The three of them had each found their way, he thought or started to at least. He was glad they'd converged again and he took a deep breath of Summer. Pollen, grass and the earthy smell of livestock. 

"Are you back for long?" Tommy asked, fixing him with a peculiar look.

"Don't know." He answered honestly. Even now, old enough to take part in trading and charting, he still wasn't privy to his family's plans. 

Tommy's gaze flickered to Tubbo for a second and then back. "Alright. Well, we're glad to see you again. Even if you are a little late."

He'd considered himself lucky to return, not late. The look on Tommy's face was sombre though and Tubbo was pointedly avoiding looking at him. Was this what it was like to be missed? He twisted his cloak in his hand, trying to balance happiness and remorse.

\--

If Winter had been rose hips, Summer was strawberries. They grew in tangled bunches along the mountainside, ripe and plentiful. Tubbo plucked them up and popped them into his mouth on his way up and down the mountain. It stained his mouth red and he tucked them into a ruddy pocket in his tunic. Ranboo ate them too, but not nearly as much.

He split his time between his family, Tubbo, and Tommy. Some days he could see both of them, but usually, Tommy had to stay in town to help his family and Tubbo had to remain with the sheep. If he was honest, he preferred his days in the meadow. He had realized shortly after his stay began, that he was not much for village life. During their travels, he had the luxury of keeping to his family and campsite, but with Tommy, he was dragged around the bustling square all day. It was too many people, too much to do. He was used to keeping moving, but always at a constant pace. Tommy's day meandered from the butcher's to the blacksmith's and all across town. It was unpredictable and he nearly always ended up cross at Ranboo for dilly-dallying. 

So naturally, the meadow. 

"You're not much help, y'know," Tubbo called to him. He was shearing a ewe, sweat slicking his brow as he manoeuvred the heavy creature. "Just there to look pretty I suppose."

"Do I look pretty?" Ranboo lifted his head from the make-shift cushion he'd made from his cloak. He was stretched out in the soft grass, taking notes from the lazy sheep and munching on strawberries. Tubbo was pink-faced from exertion and pushed his wavy hair off his forehead. Ranboo's eyes trailed the line of his jaw for a second and he swallowed.

"As pretty as Mary, here." Tubbo patted the sheared flank of the ewe as she tottered off.

"Don't you two share more of a resemblance?" He retorted, sitting up now. Tubbo's brown ears flicked with annoyance. Between them, two short horns had sprouted. It was as good an indication as any that they were growing up, and Ranboo longed to see them up-close.

"Shut up," Tubbo muttered fondly and called the next sheep to him.

"As you wish." Ranboo hummed and pulled a dandelion from the earth. He plucked off its tender leaf and chewed it. 

"I've been thinking of ways to keep you from running off again," Tubbo said, out of nowhere. 

"Mhm," Ranboo fiddled with the head of the yellow flower, staining his fingers. "You know it's a lost cause."

"Well, maybe. You've got to stay with your family, that's it right?"

"Yeah." Ranboo nodded and plucked another dandelion. He threaded its head through the stem of the other, starting a chain.

"Well, if you married me, I'd be your family. Then you'd have to stay." Tubbo chirped, a shine of ridiculousness in his smile.

Ranboo spluttered, tearing the stem of a dandelion too far. "Marry you?" He gaped.

"Relax. Only joking." Tubbo chided, padding over until he shaded Ranboo from the sun. "Now get up and help me wrangle Hattie." Ranboo took his hand and was surprised at Tubbo's strength as he was pulled to his feet.

\--

Summer evenings were the only time Ranboo really enjoyed being in town. Fireflies and firelight illuminated darkened corners and smiling faces. On Fridays, Wilbur performed for them. Tommy had explained that his brother didn't travel as much in the Summer; merchants and pilgrims kept the town full enough for Wilbur to earn coin there. Ranboo was glad for it. He realized he'd completely forgotten it when the first song oozed out into the hot night. Wilbur's smoke and syrup voice rattled off a tale of sea, sailors and beautiful women. Each chord he strummed matched the ones in Ranboo's heart and he felt full of the night's festivities.

He, Tubbo and Tommy were sat on their stoop, watching Wilbur as he galavanted around the square. The rest of the town clapped and cheered from the edges too, no less thrilled to be sung to. Ranboo understood, he doubted he'd ever get tired of music. He had no knack for it himself, but it fascinated him. Wilbur could recall countless epics through simple rhyme, memory extending beyond any mortal lifetime. Tommy was perhaps the only one among them who was immune, but he didn't tease, just talked uncaringly over him. Tubbo's fingers tapped along on Ranboo's knee. He was sat close, just like when they were kids. Tommy was on the step above, looking out over them. 

Wilbur began to play a particularly rollicking tune, and the towns-people got to their feet. They paired off and danced, hand to hand, spinning happily throughout the square. Ranboo watched a grinning Phil lead a reluctant Techno onto the dance-floor. The two of them side-stepped Fundy who was hopping up and down at Wilbur's feet with the careless, gracelessness only a child could get away with. 

"Go on, you two." Tommy nudged Ranboo's shoulder. "You won't catch me two-stepping. Not if you paid me."

Tubbo was looking at him curiously. "You want to?" He asked as if it was as easy as that. He held a hand out and Ranboo took it without thinking.

"I don't know any two-steps or anything." His family danced, but not this way. A shot of nerves scored through him, but he spotted a few of his aunts and uncles twirling in their own way. His mother, her dark hair cascading around her, was not far off. "Alright." 

Tubbo squeezed his hand and they stepped out into the song. They started out uncertain, Tubbo unsure of leading as Ranboo towered over him, but they found their footing eventually. It was much easier than it looked, Ranboo found. He was far more concerned with how close his friend was, the way his hand fit around his waist so nicely. Tubbo was looking over his shoulder, keeping them from bumping into the other dancers, which meant Ranboo was free to look at his face as much as he liked. Tubbo's eyes were as pale as moonlight and twice as big. His lips were parted just so, tongue poking out ever so often in a display of concentration. 

Suddenly, Tubbo brought them to a halt. The song was over, he realized with disappointment. The others clapped, but Ranboo was reluctant to release his hold on his friend. Tubbo cleared his throat eventually. "Why don't we, ah, get something to drink?" He said. Ranboo let go then but clasped their hands together. Something of the night had possessed him, bold and taken. 

"Mhm."

Tubbo led them to the well, just out of sight from the square. Music poured down the path, distorted and sleepy. When they pulled the bucket up, it was full of delightful, chilly water. They cupped their hands together and drank, and Ranboo watched as water dripped down Tubbo's neck. He stepped closer, backing Tubbo against the well's support until they were toe to toe.

Tubbo licked his lips and brought his hands up. Ranboo caught them, leaning down ever so slightly. 

"Tubbo, can I-"

"Don't-" 

Ranboo let go, dropping Tubbo's icy cold hands. He stepped back. "I'm sorry. I misread, I didn't mean to."

"You didn't misread, though," Tubbo murmured, turning away from him. "I really did want you to."

"What? Then why?" Ranboo floundered. 

"'Cause, you'll be gone soon. And I don't want things to get all messed up." His voice broke on the last syllable and Ranboo's heart crumpled with it. He couldn't counter it. There was no telling when he'd have to leave, and who was he to tell Tubbo off? If he wasn't so entirely fixated on the thrill of seeing him again, he might be paying more mind to the ache of leaving. 

"I understand." He said instead and teetered forward until he could crush Tubbo in a hug. Tubbo's eyes splintered with a little smile then and he nuzzled into Ranboo's shoulder. He smelled of grass and earth and honey. 

"You know, if you married me, this whole thing wouldn't be an issue," Tubbo said into his shirt.

Ranboo pulled back to fix him with a quizzical look. "You have the weirdest sense of humour. And possibly the worst timing." 

"Yes, well, mending hearts is best done through laughter." 

"Where did you hear that?"

"One of Wilbur's songs." 

\--

They didn't stay two months. They didn't even stay one. It was three wonderful, heart-wrenching weeks. His mother told him the night before and he'd rushed all the way into town to tell Tommy. His friend's face had fallen only briefly before he'd pulled up a mask of neutrality and masculine good-nature. "Well, can't say I'm surprised."

It made Ranboo angry, but he pushed it away. He wouldn't spend his last night berating Tommy for his bravado. He scoffed at Tommy's offer of a handshake and pulled his idiot friend into a tight hug. "Don't skimp out on me just as I'm leaving." He muttered. Tommy laughed in his arms and pulled back. 

"And don't go thinking you're too worldly to stop by again." Tommy pressed something cold and metal into his hand. It was a ring, a green gem and a red one set in gold. He slid it onto his finger and admired the way the light glimmered off it. 

"I'd never." He assured him. "Take care of them all." _Take care of Tubbo,_ he thought. 

"I always do."

Tubbo was up the mountainside. He'd taken to sleeping under the stars among his animals. It kept the foxes away and it was warm enough not to be unpleasant. When Ranboo found him, he was nestled under a warm quilt, pieces of grass sticking out from his mess of brown hair. He wasn't asleep, bright eyes flicking across the constellations above.

"I'm going," Ranboo said, alerting him. Tubbo perked up for only a second before his whole body seemed to deflate. Ranboo sat down and sidled up against him, pushing his friend's head down on his shoulder just like he liked. "In the morning. Dunno when we'll be back."

"Oh." It was soft and broken and Ranboo felt ill. Leaving once had been hard. Leaving again, knowing all that he forfeited in going, was impossible. "Good-bye then." Tubbo looked up at him and his moon-blue eyes were wet. Ranboo swiped his thumb across Tubbo's cheek, more tender than he wanted to be.

"You'll have to catch Hattie on your own." He murmured, trying for light-hearted.

"I did before you got here." Tubbo mumbled. "It was really just an excuse to see you make a fool of yourself."

"You're nasty." Ranboo hissed fondly. "Can't believe I like you so much."

Tubbo preened a little, a wobbly smile on his face. "Do you?"

"I thought I made it pretty clear."

"I think I need reminding." Tubbo's eyes flicked to his lips and Ranboo didn't need to be told twice. He dipped down to kiss him. Tubbo made a soft sound of surprise and grabbed two fistfuls of his cloak to pull him closer. It was slow and wanting and sad. And then it was over. 

Tubbo smoothed Ranboo's cloak down and leaned his head heavily on his shoulder. A deep sigh escaped him and Ranboo pressed his cheek to his soft mop of hair.

"I want you to promise to come back again."

"Tubbo-"

"It worked last time. It may well work again."

Ranboo carded a hand through his hair then pulled Tubbo back so their eyes met. "I promise I'll come back." He said seriously. If not with his family, then when he came of age. When he was without a tether.

"Good."

\--

He didn't say good-bye in the morning. He couldn't bear to in the revealing light of day. 

Days later when his family settled again in a new, unfamiliar city, he found a bundle he couldn't place. It wasn't unusual for him to misplace his things, but he'd never accidentally acquired one. He unwrapped it slowly and found a cream coloured sweater. It was soft and thick and smelled of grass and earth. Wool. A sweater from Tubbo's sheep. He pressed his nose to it and felt his heart clench painfully. Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, i hope that was alright. I think the last part will have to be split into two, so four chapters total.  
> sorry its so long!


	3. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ranboo comes home.

How long do you wander before you are lost? If Ranboo asked his mother, she would say never. As long as you were moving towards some cardinal point, you weren't wayward. It was a lesson he'd never forget, forged in months bound to dirt roads and the impossible idea of home on-going. He grew with it, resentful but knowing no other way of life. 

When he came of age, his mother made him bend down so she could kiss his forehead. She had told him never to kneel, not for anybody, but he would for her. She added one of her brilliant opal rings to his hand and bade him go. So that one day he would pass it on to another who understood their way. The relentless wheel of trading and travelling and never ever stopping. He watched her ride away with the rest of his relatives, her black hair like liquid night. 

Though he'd never had the opportunity to be alone before, Ranboo found he was a natural at it. He took well to the long silences, marred only by calling birds or the rush of wind. In his mind, he recounted stories. With years behind him and a footprint that spanned continents, he found it difficult to separate myth from truth. What tales had he told himself and which had he experienced? He weighed the tale of a young man nicknamed only "The Blade" that he couldn't quite source and decided it was a legend. Stories of deserted mines and monsters though, he knew to be true. He sorted these things one by one as he journeyed, cataloguing each to his satisfaction. Sometimes, he could pinpoint a moment that completely escaped him. They were always bracketed by memories, and the hollow spaces hurt him more than he could say. 

At night, he strapped himself to his horse, Allium. It was uncomfortable but necessary. His first night alone had been disastrous; he'd woken up in complete darkness without even the lights of a campsite to guide him back. She was a good creature though and put up with his peculiar solution. Her soft, horsey smell was a token of his family, and he pressed his nose into her mane as he fell asleep. It would be easier if he didn't miss them.

He had spent his whole life wishing to make his own way, to stay or go when he pleased. Now that he could, he found himself directionless. It burned something resentful inside him. His map laughed at him, the creases and causeways of it daring him to pick a destination. But each time he took out his compass, it was wrong. 

One day, when frustration sparked to anger, he tossed his navigation kit into a river. The water swallowed the lot of it hungrily. Sane again a moment later, he jumped in after it, but only succeeded in finding his water-logged compass and soaking himself to the bone. Allium nickered and Ranboo splashed water at her from the shallows. 

At least now he was lost by choice.

\--

In the stories he collected, Ranboo never saw himself as the hero. He remembered his mother telling a tale once, of a boy with his name. He'd recoiled immediately and asked her to change it. It wasn't that he wasn't good (though he wasn't sure he  _ was _ ) or that he had never done anything worth a story, he just wasn't the hero. He always liked the side-kicks better anyways. Loyal, full of good ideas and never alone. That was what he would pick for himself. Ordinary.

When he rode into town though, people stared. When he was a child, he'd pegged it on their large party. Now, he recognized that it was everything about him. His cloak drew the eye, covered in crisscrossing constellations and without a real order to it. He towered over nearly everyone, and his accent was a horrible mish-mash of everywhere. He felt a bit like a massive storm-cloud, casting shadows and mostly unwanted. 

This town was no different. He rode Allium down the winding mountain path, dappled in the warm colours of Fall. Sunlight trickled through, flashing through evergreen branches until he reached the open square. It was lively if a little run-down. The fountain in the centre was missing an arm and the stone was coated in pretty green algae. Thatched roofs caught orange leaves and seed-pods, eager for the earth. It seemed as though rain had come and gone, the pavement still emitting that steely, churned soil smell. He wondered how far north he'd travelled, unable to chart it on his map.

When he approached a fruit seller's cart and asked her the nearest city, he startled. The words were crisp and sharp, the kind of accent he'd always wanted. He bought an apple for her trouble and led Allium to a grove set off from the main thoroughfare. There, he sliced off sweet chunks and shared the treat between them. The evening was settling and he wondered if he could get away with the tent. The town was busy enough, he thought maybe he'd be able to find his way back if he wandered in the night. Something about the grove begged for a tent, he decided. He flung his cloak across Allium's sloped back and set to it. 

Half-way through setting the last peg, he was interrupted. A tall, blond boy around his age leaned against a tree. "It's rather rude not to greet your host." He huffed.

Ranboo reddened and he got to his feet, brushing twigs from his trousers. "I didn't know this land belonged to anyone. I can move." he didn't want to, but he had no coin to spare for rent.

The boy's expression turned wary and he walked closer. Ranboo stepped back towards his saddle-bags, conscious of their precious cargo. There was a heavy axe hanging from the boy's belt and a thick bandage around his forearm that spoke of battle. "What are you playing at?"

"Not playing. I am not playing!" Allium nudged his head, snuffling concernedly at his hair. "Really, I'll just go."

"Ranboo, you'll not leave now. I mean, I knew you were a worm, but really." The boy was smiling a little and saying his name like it belonged in his mouth. Ranboo's throat felt dry. It wasn't the first time someone had known him like this. His mind remained painfully blank though as he took in the scars crisscrossing the boy's arms and neck. 

"I don't," He sucked in a breath. "I'm not sure I know who you are." He admitted quietly.

The smile shattered and Ranboo watched his expression flash first to hurt and then anger. "You fucking arsehole. God, I wish you were joking but you're not are you?"

Ranboo shook his head, no.

"This is fucking fantastic. Some hero's welcome you'll be getting." He clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down, clearly torn. "You were always a little messed up though, weren't you?"

This, unfortunately, confirmed that he  _ did  _ know Ranboo. "Are we friends?" A fragile, embarrassing sprig of hope in the question. 

"Best of and don't you forget it."

"Well, too late."

And then they were both laughing. Ranboo, uncertain and hiccupy and the boy in wild cut off shouts. When their breath settled, the boy fixed him with a look. "Well. I'm Tommy."

"I'm Ranboo."

"Yes, I know, you big log." Tommy swatted at him. "You should come for dinner. Tubbo's not come down the mountain for a while and well," He turned to look down the path to the village. "It's probably best we get you sorted before he sees you."

_ Tubbo. _

Ranboo's heart clenched. It was overwhelming and he nearly lost his footing trying to follow Tommy. "Is he my friend too?"

There was a long pause before Tommy replied. "Yes." 

\--

Tommy's home was just off the town square, its exterior no different than the half dozen others gathered there. Inside, Ranboo smelled cinnamon and sage and tanned leather. Herbs hung from the rafters and one whole wall was dedicated to weaponry, ranging from tiny daggers to massive broadswords. It was sparsely decorated but lived in. Little twiggy figures sat on the windowsill and Ranboo smiled a little. They were the sort of friends he had built for himself when he was a child. The whole scene felt achingly familiar. He wondered if he'd ever been here before. 

Dinner was a family affair and Ranboo was acquainted or reacquainted with Tommy's household. There was Wilbur, a man with dark shadows under his eyes and a manic sort of glint in his eyes and Fundy, a boy at the particular age where tossing peas across the table was very funny. The last two come as a pair; Techno and Phil carried on an entire conversation with their eyes as the meal passed. When Tommy brought up Tubbo again, Phil took Techno's hand and Ranboo looked away. He felt like a voyeur, these people accepting him into their most intimate conversation. They were familiar but cautious. Ranboo felt a little like a stray dog come home, half-tempted to run off again.

"Are you on your own, Ranboo?" Wilbur asked.

"Yeah. I'm of age and all so I can sort of come and go as I please."

Tommy's fork clattered to his plate and when their eyes met, there was fire behind them. Tommy stood suddenly. "I'm gonna go. Need a piss." He said and walked quickly out the back door.

"For the record," Techno said to Ranboo conspiratorially, "The bathroom is upstairs." 

He was meant to follow then, he thought. He mourned the golden potatoes and rich rabbit stew but left anyway.

Ranboo found Tommy on a bench nestled into the mountainside. Moths flapped around the nearby lantern, bumping stupidly against the glass. Tommy was watching them intently and didn't look up as he sat down. 

"I want to bash your head in." He said by way of greeting.

Ranboo swallowed and looked out at the view. The forest descended below them, running lawlessly down until it disappeared into nothing. "Was I such a bad person?"

"No," Tommy said, and a moth landed in his hair. He shook it off and continued. "You were annoyingly nice. Are. You are."

"Hm."

"Which is why I haven't bashed your head in."

"Cheers."

They sat in silence for some time, watching as the sun retreated to sleep below the distant mountain range. Ranboo knew, deeply, inherently, that he loved this place. His useless compass would never have led him here. It was a journey of the heart. There was something for him here, nestled among the pine. A story maybe. He glanced at Tommy. He had the cut of a hero, fair and fiery. 

"Would you tell me about us? What I've forgotten."

Tommy's face was cut in two shades, the soft orange of the sunset and the bright lamplight. "I'll tell you some. I'll tell you about you and me, though you have to promise not to think badly of me. I was a dickhead sometimes."

Ranboo wanted to reply that he still was, or seemed so, but they weren't quite there. So he nodded and let Tommy begin haltingly. He paused in some parts, cutting himself off, and Ranboo recognized censorship. There was a third person who he wasn't allowed to know entirely. For their protection or his. Tubbo. 

"He's the reason you came back, I reckon," Tommy said as he finished.

"I came 'cause I was low on food."

"Maybe. We find our way though, don't we? Love and all that." Tommy scoffed. Too embarrassed to ask what he meant, Ranboo nodded. Questions filled his mind, threatening to spill out without warning. He pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders.

"And will Tubbo want to see me?"

Tommy's lips thinned at this and he stared at the fading sky with such hardness that Ranboo had to look away. "Yes. He's been waiting for you a long time." Something churned in Ranboo's belly, nervous and shameful. "You," Tommy swallowed. "You be gentle with him, alright?"

He wanted to tell Tommy that he'd not spoken so much to anyone in months. That gentleness was all he knew, the slow murmur of rider and horse and earth. People were different though. "I will."

"I know you will." Tommy sighed. "The two of you..." He didn't finish and Ranboo hung onto the words until the sky was pitch dark and starry and Tommy had told him goodnight. He said it like they were a pair, and though Ranboo had never wanted to belong to someone, he imagined it. And then he imagined forgetting it all. 

There was nobody now to call him to bed or kiss his forehead, so he stayed until his tears dried and the sun was rising. He wondered if Tommy's words counted as story or truth. He found he didn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless tommy. he has a good heart. sorry for no tubbo, i can't write two awful moments in one chapter
> 
> next chapter: the big reunion, etc.
> 
> as always, i appreciate your comments and kudos and bookmarks :) you can sub to me or this story by hitting subscribe at the top or on my profile.


	4. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end  
> levy made a playlist for this fic if you wanna have a listen :))  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4hai4kzZxYytDA3vaGMWm5?si=d1afe413e1554e55

Ranboo tucked himself in as the sun rose, shining copper on the turning leaves. Crisp air rasped at his cheeks and he wriggled further under his quilt. He rarely had the luxury of sleeping during the day, favouring the light hours for travel and trade instead of naps. Light poured in between his closed eyes, turning the darkness warm and carrying with it the sounds of life. The distant movements of town and birdsong. The world going on just fine without him. 

When he woke it was to hushed voices and two silhouettes stark against the Fall sunlight. He licked his lips, tasting sleep and dreams, and reacquainted himself with the world. Grounding was an important part of waking up. He'd taught it to himself to vie with the chaos of sleep-walking. If he could not control where he went, he could at least control how he woke. The tent was his own, his quilt warmed by sunshine and the people outside were familiar. He knew them. His mind whirred, trying to place the two voices and he lifted part of the flap. 

Tommy's face snapped in his direction with a look of slight panic. The other boy, smaller, was looking too. His expression was one Ranboo had never seen before. It was hurt, deep, unexpected hurt. And yet, he looked at Ranboo as though he were most dear. He knew this was Tubbo. He had hair like fresh-churned earth and wide, grey eyes. Mirror-like in their clarity. 

"Tubbo's come down the mountain," Tommy said, breaking the silence. "We didn't mean to wake you." Ranboo crawled out the rest of the way and stood, brushing his trousers off. Tubbo seemed impossibly smaller.

"You," Tubbo's voice cracked and he began again. "You've grown. Again." The last word curled in Ranboo's belly, broken and jealous. How long had he been away, how long had he stayed? We have a right to our own story, he thought bitterly, we have a right to our memories. All he could do was nod and pretend he remembered ever being smaller than he was then. 

"It's not all good. My-"

"Your pants never fit, I know. You used to complain all the time." Tubbo couldn't meet his eyes, looking instead at a point just over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Ranboo said quietly. He wanted to memorize this boy. His hands were rough but skilled. Piano-player's fingers on a layman's palm. 

"I thought we could go to the lake," Tommy said and Ranboo remembered there were more than the two of them. "Skip stones. Catch up."

"I'd like that." He replied.

\--

"And is Hattie still alive?" Ranboo asked, turning over a smooth stone in his hand. It was flat but uneven. Not ideal. Tubbo had just finished telling him about his herd. He remembered the particular ewe from one of Tommy's stories the night before.

"No, but her lamb is." Tubbo smiled softly.

The air was laced with a slight chill. It rolled off the lake and Ranboo wished for the wool sweater tucked safely in his saddle-bag. Trees bowed around the shoreline, dead branches dipping into the murky water. Ranboo tossed his stone and watched it complete a dozen or so arcs before plunging under the surface.

"Geez Ranboo. Show-off, much?" Tommy snorted and threw his own. It landed with a plonk in the water and Tommy grunted. "I wasn't trying."

"He's always been better than you." Tubbo hummed.

The way they spoke set off something vulnerable within him. He was known to them, intimately, more than he had ever known anyone. They traded comments about his past, off-hand and casual. Each one was a treasure to him. He latched on to every little habit, every anecdote. Maybe it was envy that made his throat go tight. They knew so much about him and all he knew was second-hand; Tommy was his friend and Tubbo was...

Ranboo watched Tubbo scan the bank for another rock. Focused but fickle, plucking one up and then trading it for another. He'd shed his boots and was walking through the freezing mud in bare feet. Ranboo thought that he must have loved this boy. 

"You're biased." Tommy crowed and tossed another stone overhand. He wasn't even trying. Ranboo laughed, meeting Tubbo's eyes. His cheeks were pink, embarrassment and fall chill, and he looked away immediately. 

"You're jealous." Tubbo tilted his chin up in mock-haughtiness. 

"Yes! I am! Show me how to skip a stone. Now. Before I push you into the lake. Tubbo can't swim, so you'd drown."

"He's right, I can't." Tubbo conceded. "So you'd better show him."

Ranboo tossed his stone and watched its tiny journey. Ripples, infinite and identical, spread across, marking its path. "Alright."

\--

With Tommy, he had been bid to meet his family. With Tubbo, it was his sheep. He led him through the yellowing tall-grass, weaving through the last poppies of Summer. At each sheep, they paused. Tubbo kneeled and took Ranboo's hand, placing it over the velvety snout.

"Alice." "Heather." "Nettle." "Tilly." "Poppy." 

It was somehow more intimidating than Tommy's family. These creatures meant so much to Tubbo. Animals had a deep-rooted judge of character and he could only hope to measure up. Poppy fixed him with a look that he considered entirely too profound for a farm animal and he returned it unwaveringly. "Why don't you look at me like that?" Tubbo teased, striding ahead until he reached a worn patch of meadow.

Ranboo stumbled to catch up. He wanted to tell him that he  _ did  _ look at him like that. He'd not stopped looking since they met. Or, met again. Each time they spoke it was like peeling back a layer, getting closer to what he'd lost. Even now, seeing him washed in sunlight, hands in the pockets of his coveralls, something surfaced. Tubbo laughing in the afternoon, silent and missing pieces and half-remembered. He reached out and the vision rippled, replaced with the sweeter reality. Tubbo cocked his head.

"You know, I made you that sweater." 

Ranboo looked down at the cream-coloured sweater. He'd shucked it on unthinkingly when Tubbo had asked him to join him on the mountain. He curled his arms around himself, fingers digging into the soft wool. "It's my favourite."

"It was a parting gift." Tubbo stepped closer and ran a hand over his shoulder, an artist admiring his work. "I'm glad you kept it."

He nearly hadn't. His wardrobe was parsed down to a bare few garments, function over beauty. He clutched it more dearly as if it might disappear under his touch. How easily he could have misplaced this proof of them. This clue to what he knew was once, was still, between them.

"You made it for me?"

Tubbo pushed his hair out of his eyes and exhaled as if the memory exhausted him. "It was the fastest I've ever had to knit something. We didn't know how long you'd be here so I spent nearly every night on it."

"Wow."

"Yeah well, I was a dork and had a huge thing for you, so." Tubbo turned away, marching deliberately towards a lean-to done up like a make-shift living space. It was dappled in light turned warm and ruddy by the forest. Ranboo's heart clenched painfully. At once, he wanted to hold him and run away. He wanted to have him like the sweater, real and concrete, something from the past he could hold in the present. But the idea of being close to him was like touching fire. He feared he'd be consumed, or worse, burned. What if Tubbo preferred to keep it in the past, what if his forgetting was better for the both of them? They were used to his leaving, they knew how to live without him. And he knew how to live without them. It was  _ all  _ he knew. 

"C'mon, handsome. Help me fill the water troughs." Tubbo chirped, and Ranboo went running.

\--

Ranboo didn't know how he'd been roped into labour. He hadn't the build for it; too lanky by far to be good at hauling the heavy stones. Still, he lugged one up from the ditch towards Tommy's house. They were tasked with repairing the garden wall. It had tumbled down in one spot and the critters had been helping themselves to the Fall harvest. Tommy had explained sheepishly that he'd knocked it over trying to clear it, practising "battle manoeuvres". 

He held the stone out for Tommy to grade and direct, forearms trembling a little from exertion. They both had their sleeves rolled up, soaking through at the yokes of their shirts. The barest relief came from the Fall breeze, uncharacteristically stagnant. 

"C'mon Tommy. Tell me where to drop this thing." He grunted, frustration sparking.

"Oh, I dunno. Left side." Tommy waved his hand and focused back on the piece of grass he was braiding. Ranboo wanted to tear the stupid grass out of his hand.

He dropped the stone down with more force than he intended and the wall crumbled. He could only watch helplessly as rocks slid off one another until half their progress was gone. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his chest burst with the unfairness of it all. He wheeled on Tommy.

"Left side, you said. Look at what happened!" He spat, kicking a stone.

"Not my fault. You knocked it over," Tommy rose to his feet. He wasn't nearly as tall as Ranboo, but his face contorted it into something terrifying. He stepped closer, inspecting the mess for only a second before he was back in Ranboo's face. "All afternoon we've worked on this. Shouldn't have asked for your help. Typical."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, I dunno. You just never commit to anything, do you? Just half-ass it 'till you can run off again." He barked. Ranboo knew then that it was more than just the garden wall. More than a heap of stones. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, mouth twisting in a scowl. 

"You think I meant to wreck it? It was an accident. You're such an idiot." Tommy seemed to boil at his words, fists clenching and eyes churning with fire.

"Sorry, we're not all as worldly as you are." He said. "Just fix it." He pointed sharply at the wreck and then stormed in through the back door. "It's your mess, not mine."

Ranboo swallowed his protest and aimed another kick at the rocks, harder this time. It stung but sent a wayward stone flying. 

He shucked his soaked shirt, letting the useless breeze cool his skin as he assessed the damage. He began slowly this time. Carefully. He had time. The rocks grated against his palms but he allowed himself to breath between them. He scooped handfuls of cool water from the birdbath, letting it run over his face and shoulders. Slowly, he recuperated. The wall was steadier this time. 

As he worked on the capstones, Tommy reappeared. He had two tall bottle-green glasses of lemonade. Ranboo took one carefully and regarded Tommy over the top of the glass. 

"Shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry." He said. It was the same apology Ranboo might have expected from someone Fundy's age. Still, he knew how hard it must have been for his friend to say it. 

"It's okay. I shouldn't have either." He sipped, his throat tingling with the cool drink. "I'm not good at this kind of thing."

"You did alright, though." Tommy looked past him at the garden wall. "Maybe you just needed to do it your own way."

Ranboo smiled a little. "Maybe I didn't need a lazy supervisor." 

Tommy scoffed. "I was perfectly helpful."

"You weren't." Ranboo chided. "But it's alright. It's done."

He wanted to tell Tommy how much it meant to be able to make up with him. To be liked well-enough to recover from a spat and still get lemonade at the end. He'd poured his anxieties into the stones, and though he'd imagined that might make them weaker, piled together, interlocking seamlessly, it seemed indestructible. But he and Tommy didn't talk about those things, not out loud. So he patted Tommy's shoulder and said. "Thanks for the lemonade."

\--

The following day, it rained. Torrentially, angrily. It disrupted more than just every-day life, turning the campsite to mud and sloughed off mottled leaves until Ranboo feared his tent would collapse from the weight of them all. He felt like a little kid again, listening to his mother sing and wishing away the wetness of it all. He wrapped his quilt over his cloak, bundled against the downpour. 

Suddenly, the flap lifted and Ranboo flinched back. Tubbo peered in, hair covered in pearls of rain. "I've come to rescue you." He grinned.

They raced to Tommy's house using a makeshift tarp of his cloak. It only stung a little and he forgot all about it when he opened the door, faced with a roaring fire and a steaming kettle. 

"Wotcher, Ranboo!" Tommy's greeting froze him in the threshold, something soft and familiar running over him. Tubbo pushed past him into the heat, clearly chilled. He rubbed his hands over his arms, teeth chattering. Ranboo stepped closer and Tubbo pressed into him, shivering. It was unconscious and set Ranboo's heart beating. 

Phil stepped out of the kitchen, two mugs of spiced tea in hand. Ranboo took his, letting the drink warm his hands for a moment before he drank. Tubbo didn't step away, his eyes closed as if hibernating. Phil set the other mug down on the hearth.

"It'll be all day, so get comfortable." Techno trodded downstairs looking sleep-rumpled and soft. "Phil, where's  _ my _ tea?"

"In the pot. Come on." Phil ushered him into the kitchen. 

Tommy's hands were curled around his own tin mug and his expression was mellow. It was rare, seeing him like this. Ranboo shuffled over, Tubbo complaining softly into the fabric of his shirt.

"He's being a shit 'cause his hair is wet," Tommy murmured. The armchair he was sat in was a worn forest green. He had his knees up, bare feet curling around the edge of the seat. Ranboo thought of a feral cat, cosied up and unassuming. 

"'M not." Tubbo groaned. "But it's going to dry all pouffy."

"Boo-hoo," Tommy said and sipped his tea. "Sit down, you're making me feel all out of place."

They sat. Or, Ranboo sat and Tubbo curled up, slumped against him with his legs propped up on Tommy's chair. 

"Do you know any stories, Ranboo?" Tubbo asked softly. His hair was already beginning to dry by the fire. It curled at the ends like wild brambles.

"I know a few." He replied. And it was only fair he began at the very start.

When he told them his stories, he didn't discriminate on what he had deemed legend and truth. It was clear to him now that he had a loose grasp on it. He told it all, an exhaustive chronicle of being surrounded by people but entirely alone. Of writing himself into stories and forgetting the lines between reality and fiction. Making up friends that he now realized were pale, hollow imitations of the ones his heart had known. He watched Tubbo fix him with that same focused look as he had seen when they skipped stones. Tommy's eyes shuttered closed after a while, falling into the rhythm of his words as he explained the pattern of his mother's braid. His soft breaths kept pace as Ranboo's story drew to a close. Tubbo's hand was in his, tracing along the valleys between his knuckles. He kept returning to his two rings. The opal from his mother and the red and green gems set in gold.

"I can't tell you how much of it is true," Ranboo admitted softly. "I can't remember."

"It doesn't matter," Tubbo said. "It's all you. They're all parts of you."

Ranboo thought of all the missing parts. The parts he knew Tubbo must have loved. His voice felt thick when he spoke. "I'll never forgive myself for forgetting you."

Tubbo's face fell to that same expression as when they first met. Hurt, but infinitely dear. "Yeah." 

Ranboo swallowed. He willed himself to pull it together. The room flickered, blurred with tears, and he saw a different scene. The world was bigger, or maybe, he was smaller. Tubbo was beside him feeling alone in the world, having nobody of his own, and all he wanted in that moment was to be his. To belong to someone in the truest sense. He blinked back his tears and the tent was gone again and Tommy was stirring above them.

Tubbo reached up and wiped his tears with his sleeve. Ranboo took a shuddering breath and composed himself. 

\--

"Do you know when you're leaving?" Tubbo asked him. They were in a shaded grove of the forest not far from the meadow. Craggy apple trees dotted the wood, their ripe fruit hanging just out of reach. Tubbo had clambered up one of them, moving deftly to the trickiest branches. He tossed the apples down one by one. His head was wreathed in Fall leaves, bringing out the rich auburn in his hair. 

"I haven't decided." He hadn't even thought about it since his arrival. He was so consumed in the story unfolding, in the people and the place. The feeling of belonging was addicting, even if he didn't feel it was deserved. When Tubbo looked at him, he knew he was seeing a ghost, someone who was gone and never coming back again. Still, he wanted so badly to be that person. To be worthy of devotion. "I was thinking of staying."

Tubbo stilled, one hand closed around an apple. He plucked it and leaned back against the branch, regarding Ranboo with practised evenness. "But don't you have trade to do? Places to map?"

Ranboo shifted from foot to foot, heart fluttering uncertainly in his chest. "Yeah, well. I've seen enough places." Tubbo tossed the apple and he caught it, placing it dutifully in the basket. When he looked back, Tubbo was climbing down determinedly. He stopped at the lowest branch, looking down at the drop. Ranboo crossed the glade and held his arms out. "I've got you."

He wasn't heavy, but the impact knocked the wind out of him a little. He lowered his friend slowly, hands on his sides. Tubbo stayed put, looking up in a remarkably familiar way. Music. They were missing music. He slid one of his hands into Tubbo's, adjusting them until it matched the vision in his head. 

Vulnerability painted every feature of Tubbo's face. Ranboo had never been held so delicately. Tubbo stepped towards him and Ranboo stepped back. They began slowly, methodically, each turn punctuated by the dry crunch of leaves. The rest of the world filled in around him, painted in the vibrant colours of memory. The town square, alive and real. Tubbo. He didn't have time to relish the memory before more sprung up. It was a broken dam, years of missing pages spilling full of ink all at once. His mouth went slack, struck by the immensity. In a moment he felt years return to him and Tubbo held him through it, tiny and solid. Ranboo dropped his head onto Tubbo's shoulder, bowed and helpless to emotion. 

"You're here. I'm with you." His friend said slowly, drawing him out of his head. He choked on his reply, unable to put words to the reeling feeling. Slowly, he forced himself to be present, to withdraw from the memories he'd sought so deeply. The forest, alive and turning its cheek to the changing season. Birds, clamouring in the boughs overhead. Earth. The smell of Tubbo's hair. He brought him closer, hands clawing desperately at his shoulders as if he could take him in. He wept for the first time in recent memory. It was mourning. It was rejoicing. It was all he could bring himself to do. 

Tubbo lowered them to the ground, cradling him until he was safe in the grass. 

"I've missed you," Ranboo said, drawing away so he could admire the slope of his nose, his moon-coloured eyes. "So much."

Tubbo made a soft, broken sound and leaned closer until their noses brushed. He could feel the soft flutter of his lashes, content to be as close as possible. "I waited. I would have waited forever." And it could only be true. 

Ranboo chased the words on his lover's lips. It wasn't a first kiss. It was more. He pressed Tubbo back into the soft earth, covering him with his body. Hands ran over his shoulders and sides, cataloguing his body, the ways it had changed. He pulled away only to pepper Tubbo's flushed face with kisses. Tubbo's eyes were feverishly bright and his hands tangled in Ranboo's hair, guiding him to his neck. Ranboo lavished his attention on the tender skin until Tubbo squirmed and pushed him off. He could feel their matching heartbeats, rabbit-quick. 

"You promised me," Tubbo murmured. "You said you'd come back."

Ranboo wondered if promises like that transcended what they could understand. If maybe, they weren't so different from the stories he knew. Whether fate had a hand in it or not, he didn't know. As Tubbo brought him back in, sweet and patient, he wondered if this was what heroes felt like. At the end of all their journeys, dragons slain and bounties claimed, they came home. They belonged somewhere. He nuzzled Tubbo's collarbone, that grass, earth, Spring smell. More than a place, he knew he belonged to someone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thats all folks!  
> please toss me a kudos if you enjoyed this.
> 
> leave a comment with your favourite parts or requests as usual :)


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